


Cuts and Bruises

by dancing_satyr



Series: The Serendipity Series [2]
Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, M/M, Mentions of Sex, Mild Blood, Period-Typical Homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-22
Updated: 2015-10-25
Packaged: 2018-04-27 14:45:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5052724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dancing_satyr/pseuds/dancing_satyr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Andy thought getting hit in the face was going to be the worst part of his day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cuts

**Author's Note:**

> I started working on this around the time the first episodes of series 6 were airing, and since then, it's become more canon divergent. This is a follow-up to Serendipity, which is obviously not canon-compliant at this point, but I still wanted to play with some of the themes of series 6. So, this is my own interpretation of what would happen if Andy was being warned off Thomas after they had already begun a secret relationship. This installment is from Andy's POV. Happy reading!

“Damn,” muttered Andy when a fat droplet of blood landed on his previously pristine livery. He cupped a hand under his jaw as he reached the bottom of the stairwell. 

Andy’s profound irritation manifested itself in the hard slap of his footfalls down the corridor and he was unsurprised when Thomas exited one of the rooms with a frown and a hand on his hip, ready to scold the source of the offending noise. Andy saw the under-butler’s expression relax upon recognizing him, but then his eyebrows knitted together again in worry.

“Andy, what on earth happened to your face?” asked Thomas, pointing at the red rivulet winding its way down Andy’s chin.

“Had an accident, that’s all,” said Andy. “It’s nothing.”

“Of course it isn’t nothing, you’re bleeding,” said Thomas.

Thomas went to approach Andy with his arms raised, as if to hold Andy’s face in his hands. However, Thomas must have realized that the corridor was not the place to physically express his concern because he let his hands fall to his sides and looked around nervously to see if anyone else was about. Andy knew Thomas was only being careful, but he was disappointed all the same.

“Come with me, I’ll get you cleaned up.”

Andy followed Thomas into the room he’d been in previously and observed a disassembled clock and some tools on the table. On the occasions when Thomas performed clock maintenance, Andy tended to loiter nearby so that he could watch Thomas as he tinkered away. He always found himself captivated by Thomas’s unwavering focus and graceful dexterity. It often surprised Andy how youthful Thomas looked in those moments, his troubled thoughts relegated to the periphery until he finished the task at hand. 

“Where did you learn to work with clocks, anyway? You obviously know a lot more about them than you could learn in service,” remarked Andy as he hopped up on the worktop, careful not to sit on any stray parts.

“My dad’s a clockmaker. I grew up around them,” said Thomas. He searched through the cabinets until he pulled out a clean cloth. “Here, press this against your lip.”

“How come you didn’t go into the family business?” asked Andy, wincing slightly from the applied pressure.

“My dad caught me in a compromising position with another lad. He thought it would be best if I went to live somewhere else after that.” Thomas kept his tone light, but Andy saw something shutter behind his eyes. 

“How old were you?”

“Fifteen. I think he saw it in me long before then, but it’s harder to deny the truth when it’s staring you in the face.” 

Andy knew that Thomas didn’t welcome pity from anyone, but he could not stop himself from saying, “That must have been very difficult.”

“It wasn’t so bad,” said Thomas. He stared down at the floor as he spoke. “Found a job as a hall boy at a small estate a little ways from home. I worked there until I came to Downton as a footman. I’m still in touch with my family and all, but I haven’t gone home since before the war. We never really got on, anyhow.”

They endured an awkward silence until Thomas announced that he was going to retrieve the first aid kit. Once Thomas was gone from the room, Andy allowed himself to reflect on the unsettlingly personal turn their conversation had taken. 

In Andy’s eyes, Thomas, with all of his complicated experiences, thoughts, and desires, was a marvelous enigma. It seemed that every time he peeled back one of Thomas’s layers, the discovery only revealed more underneath. 

While Andy craved answers, he found that many of the questions he asked, however innocuous, encroached on dark territory. Thomas’s past was something of a minefield, and Andy felt like he was constantly stepping in the wrong place. He realized in this instance, he had not watched where he was going and had, albeit inadvertently, landed on a painful subject. 

When Thomas returned with the medical supplies, Andy could detect no cracks in his polished facade. Although there was nothing that might indicate any distress on Thomas’s part, Andy still felt somewhat raw from their exchange. He wanted to say something by way of an apology, but perceived that the topic was closed and he had missed his opening.

However, apparently taking notice of Andy’s continued apprehension, Thomas dropped his distant expression and fixed Andy with a tentative but genuine smile.

“It’s alright. I’m alright,” said Thomas, bringing his hand to rest against the side of Andy’s face. 

Andy allowed himself to lean into the touch and his chest ached from the unexpected intimacy of the moment. When Thomas made to remove his hand, Andy swiftly covered it with his own to hold it in place. 

They had been in London for nearly two months now and the Crawleys had taken to entertaining almost constantly. This meant that the servants were as busy as ever, leaving Thomas and Andy precious few minutes alone. For Andy, their first night together had been nothing short of mind-blowing and he had been left wanting so much more. Yet, just when everything was so new and exciting, their work mostly kept them either too busy or too exhausted to enjoy each other’s company. 

“I miss you,” said Andy, slightly embarrassed by how easily the sentiment slipped out.

The corners of Thomas’s mouth tugged upwards in a manner that was rather doleful for a smile. 

“I miss you, too. But we’ve only another fortnight here and things will slow down once we get back to Downton.” 

Reluctantly, Andy let go of his hand so that Thomas could remove the cloth from his lip.

“How does it look?”

“Not as nasty as I’d feared,” said Thomas, his face tantalizingly close to Andy’s. “The bleeding’s stopped, but it needs cleaning.”

As Thomas began to methodically wipe the blood away with another dampened cloth, he asked, “So, are you going to inform me how you got this? Please tell me you didn’t walk into a door.”

“It might surprise you to know this, but I’m not completely daft,” said Andy with indignant amusement. “Just… please try not to get very angry.”

“What happened?” asked Thomas warily.

“I was helping Jeremy and Martin polish the silver. Something seemed off and I heard Jeremy whisper something to Martin and then, next thing I knew, Martin was punching him. So, I went to pull Martin off, only his elbow came back and hit me.”

“Damn hall boys, caused me nothing but grief since we got here,” muttered Thomas. “At least Jeremy’s only temporary. Why didn’t you tell me right away? You know it falls to me to deal with them.”

“I know, but you’ve been so tense lately. I hate to add to your troubles,” said Andy, feeling slightly abashed.

“It’s fine, but I’ll have to go have a little chat with them after we finish up here.”

“Promise you won’t be too severe? They find you very intimidating, you know.” 

“Not any more than Carson, surely,” said Thomas, adding teasingly, “Do I intimidate you?”

“No, Mr. Barrow, you don’t intimidate me,” said Andy. Unable to quash the daring that rose up inside of him, he put his lips close to Thomas’s ear and breathed, “Especially not after I’ve heard the way you moan my name while I suck you off.”

There was a terrible clatter as Thomas upended the first aid kit and sent its contents skittering across the floor.

“Christ, Andy! Warn a bloke before you say things like that,” said Thomas, a fetching shade of red painting his pale cheeks.

Andy watched Thomas carelessly reassemble the supplies and put them back on the table with a loud rattle. Despite the pain from stretching his split lip, Andy could not hold back a grin; he felt a great deal of pride in having managed to so thoroughly fluster the famously aloof and straight-faced Thomas Barrow.

“Cheeky bugger,” said Thomas as he unscrewed the cap on the antiseptic ointment. “All the others think you’re so innocent. You’ve certainly pulled the wool over their eyes, haven’t you?”

“You bring it out in me.”

“Clearly.”

There were clacking footsteps coming closer along the corridor and the two of them instinctively straightened their postures. Andy thought it uncanny how rapidly Thomas wiped any and all expression from his face, morphing it into a mask of impassive professionalism.

“I heard a ruckus. Is everything alright in here?” asked Mrs. Hughes as she swung the door fully open. “Andrew, whatever happened to your lip?”

“Just an accident, Mrs. Hughes, nothing to worry about. Mr. Barrow’s been kind enough to fix me up,” said Andy.

“Has he now?” she asked. Her tone was admonishing, much to Andy’s initial confusion. He noticed that Thomas’s jaw muscles were clenching. “So what made the noise?”

“I pushed the first aid kit off the table. Forgive me for startling you, I seem to be very clumsy today,” said Andy. He was beginning to feel rather uncomfortable, as if Mrs. Hughes was interrogating them.

“It’s no matter. Finish up and back to work with you,” said Mrs. Hughes. She continued to stand in the doorway, watching them expectantly.

His lips pursed and jaw still clenching, Thomas administered the ointment while keeping physical contact between himself and Andy minimal. There was nothing comforting in his touch this time, leaving Andy cold.

“Right as rain,” said Thomas, avoiding Andy’s eye as he closed up the kit.

“Thank you, Mr. Barrow,” said Andy. He jumped down off the table and turned his body sideways as he passed by Mrs. Hughes to leave.

“Might I have a word before you resume your duties, Mr. Barrow?” she asked. 

“Yes, Mrs. Hughes.”

Andy knew it was not right to eavesdrop, but something had practically tethered him to the spot. He was now confident that whatever they were going to discuss involved him. 

Ever since Andy had started working at Downton, some of their coworkers had given the impression that they did not condone a friendship between him and Thomas. For the most part, Andy had taken it in stride, but as of late it was beginning to take its toll. He had barely been able to avoid snapping at Mr. Molesley and Mrs. Patmore when they had tried yet again to warn him off of Thomas several days ago. 

Thomas had, not without some shame, explained to Andy why he was not well-liked downstairs. He could understand why the other servants distrusted Thomas, and he could not say that he blamed them. At the same time, however, Andy could not judge Thomas for his past actions, not when he himself knew all too well the nature of the fear and pain that had driven them. He wished that everyone would simply comprehend that Thomas was not out to wrong him, that Thomas had only ever been well-meaning and helpful where Andy was concerned. How could they not see such a thing when it was as clear as day?

“You might have let me help Andrew with his injury,” said Mrs. Hughes. “I was only down the hall.”

“It made no sense to trouble you when I was perfectly capable, not to mention qualified,” said Thomas with a smooth, detached tone. “Or have you forgotten that I was an army medic?”

So that was what Thomas had done in the Great War. Andy knew only that he had served and received the Blighty that was always covered by a glove, even when he and Thomas were in bed together; he had dared not inquire further, for that was a line he was not yet allowed to cross.

“You already know my feelings on the matter. I don’t think it’s appropriate.”

“I’m sure I don’t understand what you mean.”

“Then I’ll be coy no longer,” said Mrs. Hughes with a sigh of resignation. “You made a terrible mistake with James and I’ll not stand by and let you repeat it with Andrew.”

Oh. Andy’s realization hit him like a brutal punch in the gut. How naive he had been, to think that the servants’ only problem with their friendship had merely been Thomas’s past misdeeds and disagreeableness. Undeniably, comments alluding to Thomas’s sexuality had been made downstairs from time to time, but Andy had always been under the impression that it was a tolerated, if not accepted, fact.

But Thomas being a certain way, after all, was not altogether the same as Thomas acting on his attractions. From everyone else’s perspective, Andy was a young, innocent soul who couldn’t possibly comprehend Thomas’s nature, let alone possess the capability to set boundaries between himself and a man of such proclivities. Andy was horribly nauseous.

“I promise you, Mrs. Hughes, there is no possibility of me repeating that mistake with him,” said Thomas. His throat sounded tight.

“Please don’t think I’m saying this to be unkind,” said Mrs. Hughes, her voice softening. “It’s only that I don’t want to see any more trouble. Andrew’s a good lad and he has the potential to do well here. Perhaps it’s best if you keep your distance.”

“Thank you for your concern, but if that’s all, I have business to attend to.”

Andy narrowly managed to duck into the next room before Thomas swept past Mrs. Hughes and stalked off in the direction of the stairs. As he watched Thomas’s retreating figure, Andy felt a sharp stinging sensation in the corners of his eyes.


	2. Bruises

Andy floated through the rest of the day in a haze. Although a footman would not generally have been permitted to be seen upstairs with a damaged face, there was no choice but for him to continue serving as usual when they were still swamped and understaffed. After a while, he started to answer queries about his injury automatically; he was so embroiled in his own thoughts he was thankful he was not required to speak beyond that. 

His distraction led him to make a few minor mistakes at dinner, but the family and their guests seemed not to mind owing to the fact that he had earlier received a knock to the head. Mr. Carson was less forgiving and shot him a look that might have terrified him on any other day, but Andy was considerably more distressed when Thomas would not even look at him.

To make matters worse, Thomas did not take his usual seat next to Andy at dinner, and instead sat next to Miss Baxter on the opposite side of the table. Mr. Molesley was quite obviously disconcerted with this new seating arrangement as well, but nevertheless sat down next to Andy without a word on the subject. Thomas ate in hostile silence until he excused himself early and went outside. Andy did not join him.

Instead, Andy ended up wandering into the same room where Thomas had patched him up that afternoon. He couldn’t say precisely why he had chosen that room, only that it seemed as good a place as any to be alone with his thoughts. Thomas had apparently not returned to finish the clock, because all of the various bits and bobs were still splayed across the worktop. He sat down in front of it, resting his chin on his arms, and stared at its mechanical insides.

Andy was at a loss. He wanted nothing more than to walk out to the courtyard and envelop Thomas in his arms, but he could also discern when Thomas needed his space to ruminate. Although Andy wished that Thomas was not pushing him away, he could at least comprehend that Thomas was, in his own misguided way, trying to protect Andy. 

Thomas always did his utmost to give the impression that everything was fine, that he was in control, that he didn’t care what other people thought of him. But the more Andy got to know him, the more it became evident that Thomas had experienced a great deal of cruelty in his life and had been deeply damaged by it. 

Andy imagined that beneath Thomas’s pale, unblemished skin lay a vast terrain of aching mottled bruises that had never healed. Mrs. Hughes and the others must have been ignorant of how much their words hurt Thomas, or else they would not keep digging their fingers into tender flesh.

He wanted to do something to help their situation, but he had to admit he was petrified at the thought of being exposed. Andy thought about what Thomas would do if their positions were reversed, and realized without a doubt that Thomas would stick up for him, no matter the cost. Despite his fear, it was this fact more than anything that convinced Andy to defend Thomas. Who else if not himself? He only needed to make a case for their friendship, after all, and surely he could do so without revealing anything of their true relationship.

Before Andy could talk himself out of his decision, he marched down the hall and knocked on Mrs. Hughes’ door. Much to his consternation, when Mrs. Hughes answered Mr. Carson was also revealed to be inside, seated by the fireplace with a glass of sherry. He had not counted on having this conversation with the butler as well as the housekeeper, but he supposed there was nothing to be had for it now. Andy took a steadying breath.

“I wondered if I might have a word,” said Andy, “that is, if I’m not interrupting…”

“No, you’re very welcome,” said Mrs. Hughes, standing aside to let him in. Mr. Carson harrumphed, apparently still sore about Andy’s poor performance at dinner. 

“Um,” said Andy, now feeling more awkward than ever. Any hope he had of Mr. Carson leaving quickly vanished, as the man remained in his chair and surveyed him expectantly alongside Mrs. Hughes. 

“We haven’t all night, Andrew,” said Mr. Carson pointedly.

“I’m sorry, it’s difficult for me to say,” said Andy. Was that sweat beading on his forehead? He clenched and unclenched his hands a few times in a futile attempt to keep them from shaking. “It’s about Mr. Barrow.”

Andy instantly wished he could suck his words back into his mouth and begin again. From the dark looks on his superiors’ faces, he had clearly given them the impression that he was confirming their mislaid suspicions.

“What I mean to say is…” Andy backpedalled desperately, panic clamping down on his stomach. 

“Has he behaved towards you in a way that’s made you uncomfortable?” asked Mrs. Hughes, laying a motherly hand on his arm. 

Andy knew the gesture was intended to comfort, but it only made his stomach lurch. His plan was going to pieces. He needed to regain control, but he felt like weeks’ worth of frustration was finally starting to froth and boil over.

“No, it’s all of you who’re making me uncomfortable!” Andy blurted out with unintended vehemence. Once again, he longed to have the chance to rephrase. 

Mrs. Hughes removed her hand from Andy’s arm as though he had scalded her and Mr. Carson clanked his sherry glass forcefully on the table and growled, “Excuse me?,” as if he were about to asphyxiate on his own indignation.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Carson, Mrs. Hughes, I didn’t mean… Everything’s coming out wrong…”

“Then what exactly are you trying to say?” said Mrs. Hughes, her tone carrying a sharpness that hadn’t been there before.

“Mr. Barrow is my friend, but you’ve made it clear you don’t approve,” said Andy. He hoped it had come across as an observation rather than an accusation. “And forgive me if I’m speaking out of turn, but I don’t think it’s fair to assume he’s a bad influence on me when all he’s done is try to help.” 

Both Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes seemed quite taken aback by Andy’s pronouncement.

“Now, Andrew, I think this is all a little more complicated than you understand,” said Mrs. Hughes carefully.

How many times in his life had Andy been spoken to like that, as if he were a child? Everyone seemed to presume that he didn’t possess the wits or maturity to make up his own mind about anything. He knew he wasn’t the most worldly of men, but he didn’t deserve to be pushed around by people who thought they knew better than he did. Andy knew exactly what he wanted, and he wanted Thomas. And Thomas, who always treated Andy with honesty and respect, deserved to have someone fight his corner for once.

“Actually, I understand what’s going on very well,” said Andy with a newfound calm conviction. “You think because Mr. Barrow has certain preferences he’s working up to making advances on me.”

Andy nearly laughed at the flabbergasted expressions on their faces. Mrs. Hughes recovered first.

“So you know about Mr. Barrow?” she asked.

“I’ve known for a while,” said Andy, and because he figured it would be best to have it all out in the open, he threw in, “I know all about what happened with Jimmy Kent, too.”

“Then you will understand,” said Mr. Carson gruffly, his demeanor suggesting that he considered the topic to be about as delightful as chewing glass, “that men like Mr. Barrow are slaves to their perversities and cannot always control their impulses. It is simply better for all involved if he does not have the opportunity to act on them.”

Mr. Carson’s sentiments cut Andy to the quick. He knew the rules of society deemed Thomas and himself to be perverts and degenerates, but to hear Mr. Carson say as much with such matter-of-fact certainty was another thing entirely. Andy pulled on all of his strength to keep his eyes from welling with tears as he was overcome with a truly visceral sense of shame and hurt.

“All I know is Mr. Barrow’s been good to me,” said Andy, amazed with himself for holding his outward composure while he crumbled inside. “I’ve not given him the wrong impression and he’s not made any unwelcome advances. We know where we stand with each other and I’m sure there won’t be any trouble. I only wanted you to know that you don’t have to tell him to stay away from me, at least not on my account.”

For one terrifying moment, Andy was convinced they were looking straight through him, that he had given himself away. But the moment passed when Mr. Carson loudly cleared his throat. 

“I suppose since you are a grown man, you are capable of handling Mr. Barrow should he do anything untoward. Let that be the last we say on the matter,” said Mr. Carson, making a shooing motion at the door.

Andy took his cue to leave, but paused in the doorway to say somewhat timidly, “Mrs. Hughes? Would you mind telling Mrs. Patmore what I said? I know she would listen if it came from you.”

“Yes, I’ll do that, Andrew,” said Mrs. Hughes. Andy thought she looked rather chastened, and he would have felt sorry for her if she hadn’t made Thomas feel so much worse.

“Thank you, I appreciate that,” said Andy. “Have a good night.”

Once the door was shut behind him, Andy let his breath out in a rush as his emotions finally overtook him. His eyes pricked and watered as he made his way back to the servants’ quarters as fast as his legs could carry him. Thomas still hadn’t come back inside, but Andy let himself into his room to wait, making sure no one could hear or see him. He kicked his shoes off, undressed to his undershirt, and laid down on Thomas’s bed.

Although it made him feel foolish, Andy allowed himself to cry in earnest for several minutes. Eventually he calmed; the ticking of Thomas’s clock and the smell of him on the sheets had a soothing effect on Andy. 

He had hardly been there half an hour before he heard footsteps outside and the soft groan of the door handle. Thomas shot a cursory glance at him while he closed and locked the door behind him, seemingly unsurprised to find Andy there, then went to take off his livery jacket and wearily draped it over the chair on top of Andy’s. When Thomas turned to regard him, unmistakably taking in his unkempt curls and puffy eyes, Thomas’s features became distraught. Andy awkwardly sat up in the bed.

“I’m so sorry, I’ve been a right idiot,” said Thomas as he perched on the bed next to Andy’s legs, “That was daft of me, ignoring you all day without any explanation. You must’ve thought I was angry with you and that couldn’t be further from the truth.”

“You don’t need to apologize and I’m not upset with you. I know why you kept your distance today.”

“You do?”

“Yeah,” said Andy, adding sheepishly, “I sort of eavesdropped on you and Mrs. Hughes earlier.”

“Oh,” said Thomas, his expression inscrutable. “Is that what’s got you so bothered?”

“In a way, but it isn’t the whole reason for…” Andy broke off, gesturing at his likely red-rimmed eyes.

“Want to tell me about it?”

“Where do I even start?” 

“Just give me a minute,” said Thomas as he stood up.

The lamplight illuminated Thomas in a sultry glow as he undressed to his underthings and Andy watched his elegant form with rapt attention. He allowed his eyes to wander over the masculine cut of Thomas’s shoulders and the alluring swell of his backside. Even as desire unfurled in Andy’s abdomen, he couldn’t help recalling what Mr. Carson had said. Was he really perverse for seeing Thomas as beautiful?

Thomas rummaged around in one of his drawers, pulling out a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. “Would you like a drink? Seems we could both use one.”

“Please.”

When Thomas came back over to the bed with two glasses in hand, instead of scooting over, Andy spread his legs and patted the mattress. First handing Andy a whiskey, Thomas sat down in between Andy’s legs, and with an exhausted sigh, leant back against Andy’s chest. Andy instinctively curled his arm around Thomas’s waist. He almost started sobbing again, such was his relief at having Thomas’s warm, solid presence in his arms after he had physically ached for it all day. 

“Going to tell me what’s wrong?” prodded Thomas, his voice vibrating into Andy’s torso.

Andy took a fortifying sip of whiskey before setting his glass aside. “While you were outside, I went to have a talk with Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes.”

“What about?” 

“About you. I told them I already knew you were lavender and I wasn’t bothered by it, so they didn’t need to stop you being around me.”

“You didn’t,” said Thomas, twisting to look Andy in the face. There was no anger there, but Andy detected something like awe glittering in his eyes. Apparently satisfied that Andy wasn’t pulling one over on him, Thomas asked, “What did they say to that?”

“They basically agreed to step out of our business. I still have to say something to Molesley tomorrow, but Mrs. Hughes agreed to pass the message to Mrs. Patmore.”

“I find it hard to believe they didn’t put up a fight. So far they’ve been relentless.”

Andy debated with himself whether or not to repeat what Mr. Carson had said about Thomas. He didn’t want to burden Thomas with it, but he knew if he didn’t say something, it would eat away at him. “They didn’t, really, but Mr. Carson said some things that didn’t sit well. Can’t get his voice out of my head.”

“Tell me.” Thomas’s voice was firm but his eyes were sad and soft, as if he already knew what Andy would say.

Against his will, Andy’s breath hitched before he spoke. “He said men like you can’t control themselves, that they’re ‘slaves to their perversities.’ Like we’re no better than animals.”

“He’s said worse to my face. I’m only sorry he kicked you down with me this time,” said Thomas, using his palm to wipe the moisture from Andy’s cheeks. “I imagine that was especially hard for you to hear when you’re not used to it.”  


“How can you ever get used to it?”

“I guess you don’t, really. You just have to stand it,” said Thomas. He downed the rest of his whiskey and returned to settle back against Andy, holding Andy’s arm around his middle and interlacing their fingers.

“At least we don’t have to stand it alone,” said Andy. Thomas squeezed his hand in response.

“Thank you, for what you did for me,” said Thomas. His voice had grown so soft he was almost whispering. “You were very brave to take such a huge risk, and you didn’t have to.”

“But I did have to,” said Andy, and as he said it, he realized it was utterly true. “I couldn’t bear to watch them treat you like that anymore. Besides, I know you’d have done the same thing for me ten times over. It’s what people do when they care about someone.”

They allowed Andy’s speech to hang suspended between them for a quiet moment. Then, much to Andy’s surprise, Thomas swung himself around until he was kneeling in front of Andy. His wickedly lush red lips were quirked into a crooked smile and he was looking at Andy with something like adoring bafflement. 

“I think your act of heroism deserves a reward,” said Thomas, leaning in to place a featherlight kiss on the healing cut on Andy’s lip. “Don’t worry, I’ll be mindful of your injury.”

And with that, Thomas drove the rest of Andy’s troubled thoughts clear out of his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading, and also for leaving kudos and comments! There's more on the way. I'll try not to take ages on the next part of the series!


End file.
